


the fuse will have to run out sometime

by Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)



Category: Eternal Law
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 08:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1091523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrine/pseuds/Sandrine%20Shaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There's not one of the seven deadly sins he isn't personally familiar with, and Richard is responsible for triggering at least half, if not all of them.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	the fuse will have to run out sometime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JenNova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenNova/gifts).



The clock is steadily counting down. 

Seven days. Seven _days_. Zak has walked amongst humans for a couple of millennia now, wearing hundreds of different bodies and names, watching friends plummet down or give up, watching the people around him hate and love and fight and destroy each other and perform random acts of immeasurable kindness and go about their daily lives, and now that's what it comes down to: seven _fucking_ days.

Even measured in human time, it's hardly anything. In the grand scheme of things, it's less than the blink of an eternal eye.

The ticking of the clock follows him to sleep that night, and it still beats on during breakfast, even when Hannah has long since departed for her vacation with John. It won't stop, and Zak is beginning to realise that it was never about Hannah and all about him, and that letting her go now won't change a thing. (He still tries. He has to try, because what else is there?)

 

_629812–_  
629811–   
629810– 

Richard saunters into Zak's office as if he owns the place. 

It's not much of a surprise, really, because Richard always acts like all the world is his own private stage. That's how it's always been, back home where it used to be a problem because Mr Mountjoy didn't exactly tolerate that sort of behaviour, and down here on earth – be it in the Roman Senate, at the French court of Louis XVI, or in the trenches of France and Belgium. It's part of what makes him better suited for the other side, Zak imagines, where things such as ego and attitude are not damnable offences. He tells himself he isn't the kind of person who envies this sort of freedom or who's tempted by feelings like envy to begin with. (Truth is: angel or not, there's not one of the seven deadly sins he isn't personally familiar with, and Richard is responsible for triggering at least half, if not all of them.)

Flopping down in the chair opposite him, Richard stretches his long legs and puts his feet up on Zak's desk, carelessly or perhaps deliberately making a bunch of stationery tumble down. Zak forces himself not to react at all, to act as if Richard weren't even here, but it's hard when his old adversary (brother, friend, rival, comrade-in-arms, foe – so many terms in the multitude of human languages describing relationships, and yet none of them fit whatever they are) is trying his best to make himself noticed.

"So," Richard begins, a heavy inflection on the word, and Zak already knows that he'll hate whatever Richard has to say. Richard doesn't disappoint. "Did you enjoy your little tryst with our exceedingly _lovely_ Hannah? It must have been splendid, the woman you love in your arms, and all the world down at your feet. Tell me, Zak, was it worth ending the world for?"

It hits a little too close to home, and even as Zak continues to focus on the court files spread out before him, he feels his hands clenching into fists. 

"You know, it's funny," Richard continues, "because I seem to have this memory of you walking away from me with your head up high, like you were above temptation. I remember it as if it were yesterday. Oh, wait. It _was_ yesterday."

Zak sighs. "I'm not in the mood, Richard."

The irony that it's the mention of their fight in the Minster that goaded him into reacting when he had no trouble letting go of Richard's comments about Hannah doesn't escape him. He still carries the bruises from their tussle, and not all of them are only skin-deep. The human bodies they inhabit are fragile and breakable, easy to bruise and injure, but it's Richard's words ( _I've missed you. I miss you_ ) that made the most lingering impact, that he still feels more than a day later.

He's so caught up in the memory that he almost misses it when Richard speaks again. "Ah, but you're never in the mood. That's half the problem."

"I mean it, let it go." He intends to sound forbidding, but it has no effect on Richard whatsoever, who only makes a truly obscene gesture with his mouth that captures Zak's attention for a few seconds too long. He shakes his head, trying to clear his mind. "You know, I can't figure out your endgame. What is it that you want? And don't tell me you're really keen on kick-starting the apocalypse because that's bollocks. I know you. You may hate humanity, but if they were all gone and you didn't have anyone to torment, it wouldn't take a week before you'd be weeping with boredom."

Richard scoffs. "I don't hate humanity. I just don't see why they should have the free will that Mountjoy denies his most loyal followers. Seems a bit unfair, if you ask me."

(They've been over this before, again and again. It's been an ongoing argument between them for a couple of thousand years now, give or take.) 

"You're avoiding the question."

A broad grin stretches Richard's face as he pushes himself up and strolls towards the door. "Am I, now?"

Zak has to bite his tongue to stop himself from calling him back.

 

_514223–  
514222– _

Mrs Sheringham won't even let the clock out of sight for a single minute, and Tom is starting to panic. Zak is feeling the cold dread settle in his gut too, but he can't let it show because someone has to carry on. He has to set an example, and maybe he's made a right mess of it so far, but now he has to be the level-headed one. Or act like he is, at the very least.

It's not like they'd have answers to his questions either way. Mrs S has been out of the loop for far too long now and Tom... well, he's a chorister. He's basically a toddler Mr Mountjoy dressed up in a uniform ten sizes too big for him and sent him out to battle.

_Talk to me, Zak. Because I'm the only one who's going to understand_ , Richard had said the other day in the Minster. And he's right; of course he's right (that's the problem with down below: their PR is so damn successful because most of it is true). 

If Richard is surprised when Zak falls into step beside him on the way to court, he doesn't let on.

"I think I pushed him too far this time. He's doing it. He's pulling the plug."

He doesn't know what kind of answer he expects. Richard's reaction is milder than Zak would have anticipated, in any case. He stops in his tracks, turning to look at Zak, his hands sliding into his pockets as if he's having trouble refraining from reaching out and touching Zak. He looks... not ecstatic, not triumphant, not in any way bothered by Zak's revelation but, at best, _curious_.

Zak would have thought that Richard wouldn't miss the opportunity to rub it in, and his silence is grating on Zak's nerves like sharp nails scraping against the shafts of his feathers. 

"Don't you have anything to say?" 

"Not in particular, no." Richard grins sharply, as if he knows how much Zak is bothered by his lack of response. (Of course he knows, the bastard. Knows Zak too well, after all this time, and even though that goes both ways, it only ever seems to give Richard the advantage and never Zak.)

He takes a step towards Zak, so far into his personal space that it'll look inappropriate even to the human eye, and that's without the added sensation of Richard's breath brushing against Zak's cheek when he speaks, or the way the heat from his body seeps under Zak's skin even though they're not quite touching. "But I must say, it gives me immense pleasure to see your feathers so ruffled. So to speak."

As if in response, Zak's wings twitch, and Richard steps away, laughing softly. "Come on now, the hearing starts in five. Wouldn't want to disappoint the boss again, would we?"

 

_234155–_  
234154–   
234153– 

They lose the case, because Tom is preoccupied and Zak is distracted and even though Hannah was a weapon Richard wielded against him, her presence and her humanity also acted as a buffer, stopping Richard from going all out in court. With her – temporarily, maybe – out of the picture, Richard keeps going for the jugular and, busy bemoaning his own slip-up and the grave consequences, Zak is no match for him.

The defeat itself would be bad enough on its own, but of course Richard has to rub it in.

He finds Zak up on the tower of the Minster, looking down at the world while drinking from a bottle of expensive 40-year-old Scotch he'd kept for a special occasion. On a deep level, it offends him that Richard is invading a moment he didn't even invite Tom along for. There might be a touch of entitlement in this, but he's begun to consider this _his_ spot, and having to share it with Richard when he wants nothing but to be left alone and mope in peace irks him to the bone.

Richard's tone is, naturally, mocking. "Why so gloomy, Mr Gist? You look like you single-handedly brought on the end of the world." 

He laughs at his own joke, and Zak sees red. In a flutter of feathers and wrath, he's in front of Richard, hands fisting in the expensive silk of his suit as he pushes him back against the balustrade, precariously close to the edge. (Part of him wants to push on, push Richard off and watch him fall, if it weren't for the memory of Richard's last fall being too fresh a wound, even after centuries and centuries.) 

He forces Richard's back hard against the stonework until it has to hurt. Richard lets him, doesn't fight back, doesn't stop him, doesn't do anything but smile that damnable amused smirk of his.

"That's right," he laughs. "Let it all out." 

His fingers close around Zak's in a half-hearted move to steady himself. The touch fizzles, the essence of Richard's darkness surging against him. Unlike Tom, who that day in the pub couldn't have slipped out of Richard's handshake if he tried, Zak has enough experience and strength to pull away. He doesn't want to. 

Briefly, he hears the rustle of Richard's wings, can see dark feathers spread out against golden masonry. They're breathtaking. In all likelihood, Mountjoy would smite him for as much as thinking this, but Zak can't help it. Even now, blackened and sullied by the fall, Richard's wings are fucking beautiful, every bit as they used to be when they were pristine white and fluffy, glowing in the light up above. Before. Before the fall-out and the fall, when Richard was someone Zak was allowed to call his friend. 

But that's half an eternity ago and now they're down here on Earth, batting for different teams as the apocalypse approaches, and Zak is so bloody tired of it all, being told what to think, what to feel, whom to care for and just how much, how to act, to resist the million little temptations those treacherous human bodies make for.

Richard is right: he single-handedly brought on the apocalypse. How much worse can it get? If he goes out, he might as well make it count.

He leans in, and for one brief, glorious moment before their lips meet, the shock is written all over Richard's face, and Zak feels a triumphant rush of pride for putting it there. 

Kissing Richard, it turns out, is much like arguing with him, a never-ending battle for dominance, and oh – Richard fights dirty. His mouth is searingly hot against Zak's, his tongue every bit as wicked as when he speaks. If Richard had kissed him like this back then, Zak would gladly have followed him down as far as he could go.

His body eventually demands to breathe, and he steps back, not enough distance between them to cease the restless back and forth of energy.

Richard wouldn't be Richard if he didn't ruin the moment. When he throws his head back and laughs, Zak briefly regrets his decision not to throw him off the balustrade after all. "I have to say, Zak, I didn't see that one coming. Didn't think you had it in you."

A pounding headache builds behind Zak's forehead. "You know what? Go to hell," he says, perfectly aware that he's inviting a scathing comeback. He has no intention to stick around for it, turning on his heel to leave.

Richard's fingers close around his arm to stop him. The touch is light enough – if Zak wanted, he could easily shake it off, but when he looks up, something on Richard's face stops him. The mocking amusement is gone, replaced by an almost frightening intensity. 

"Don't you dare walk away now," Richard says. For a threat, it sounds strangely much like a plea. Or maybe it's a plea that sounds too much like a threat, Zak isn't sure. "I swear, if you walk away from this now, I'm coming after you. Even if I have to kick in Mountjoy's front door just to grab you and pull you back down with me."

There's something sobering and almost frightening about hearing Richard be so serious, more serious than Zak has heard him in decades, apart from maybe that moment of weakness when he admitted to missing Zak. He isn't quite sure what to do with it. What do you say to someone who's just told you he would gladly rip Heaven apart just to have you?

He's glad when he's spared a reply, Richard's lips back on his, hard and unforgiving. 

Around them, it starts to rain.

 

_190362–_  
190361–   
190360–   
190359– 

"You never told me," Zak asks without asking, trying to tempt Richard into offering an answer. "What it was you were angling for." 

"That's true. I never did, did I?" Richard leans back against the sheets with his wings spread out beneath him, and Zak can feel his eyes on him as he gets dressed, the scrutiny making his fingers slip when he tries to fix his tie. 

It should be more awkward. Mr Mountjoy has strict rules about his angels not getting up close and personal with humans. The rulebook doesn't explicitly mention anything about fraternizing with the other side, but that's only because the taboo is assumed. Oddly enough, Richard being Richard – as frustrating and annoying as he might be – helps to keep Zak from freaking out about the enormity of the transgression he's just committed.

He frowns at where Richard is stretching like an overlarge, demonic cat. "You don't seem too concerned about the impending apocalypse, in any case."

Richard snorts. His tone implies that, once again, he thinks Zak is being stupid. Zak would take offence, but he's had a couple of billion years getting used to that tone. "That's because I don't think there's going to be an apocalypse. This end of the world Mountjoy keeps threatening you lot with, it's not going to happen. He just keeps dangling it in front of you so you do as he says." 

He lowers the pitch of his voice in a mocking approximation of Mr Mountjoy. " _Don't mess up. Don't fall. Don't question me. Don't make your own choices. Do not pass go and collect £200. Obey. Obey. Obey._ And you and his army of choristers are so scared of what might happen if you don't fall in line that the mere threat of Doomsday is more effective than any punishment he could perceive. You gotta give it to the old man, it's rather ingenious."

"Nonsense. He wouldn't. He doesn't toy with us like that." Even as he says it, Zak feels the niggling sense of doubt. 

"Oh, wouldn't he?" Richard raises an eyebrow at him. He pushes himself up and stalks towards Zak, taking the loose ends of the tie from his fingers and making a perfect knot. His knuckles brush against Zak's throat when he pulls it tight, and Zak feels the touch all over. "And what would you do if he did? If you realised that I was right and Mountjoy had been manipulating you all along, had denied your happiness out of spite? How would you react?"

"I wouldn't stand for it," Zak says with absolute certainty, and when Richard looks at him with a crooked, wide grin, suddenly it's obvious that this is what he's been going for all along. Make Zak see what cruelty Mr Mountjoy is capable of, and finally, finally get him to fall. 

He swallows. "It's not going to happen," he tells Richard, but the lack of certainty he feels creeps into his voice and makes it quiver.

"If you say so." 

 

_7021–_  
7020–   
7019–   
7018–  
7017– 

The hour of the day calls for coffee, not hard alcohol, but coffee is not going to settle the uneasy feeling and sense of dread that's made itself at home in the pit of his stomach, and if the world is indeed ending in a little less than two hours, it would be a damn shame to waste it.

"I almost feel a little sorry for you, you know," Richard says, swirling his whisky in the glass. "Either Mountjoy turns out to be the biggest hypocrite of them all, and you lose. Or you're right and the old man's actually true to his word and ends the world, which means you... still lose." He offers a grin that, contrary to his words, holds no sympathy whatsoever.

"Oh, piss off," Zak says tiredly. He doesn't have the energy or passion for harshness anymore, not when they're doing this. 

His eyes fix on the clock, and they sit and drink in silence as the numbers count down one by one.

_69–_  
68–   
67–   
66– 

Richard starts into a cheerful, hideously off-key rendition of _It's the End of the World As We Know It_ , startling a laugh out of Zak, more hysterical than honestly amused. 

This is it, then, the moment when it all changes. 16 billion years of history between them, and it all boils down to this one moment. 

_5–_

_4–_

He isn't ready for it quite yet, but then, he's never going to be any more ready than he is now.

_3–_

_2–_

_1–_


End file.
